A Christmas Carol
by JadeWing
Summary: A definite lack of Christmas Spirit lands Syaoran in the strangest dream of his life--but with people he knows being the ghosts. And he finds out that a certain someone may have one month left to live, will he be able to find the true spirit of Christmas?


A Christmas Carol

By JadeWing

Part One: The Christmas Past

The cold winter day was beautiful. White clouds overhead only made the view brighter; festive decorations were hung from every roof and porch in town. 

Amidst the cheer and bustle wandered a boy—yet he was not quite a boy anymore. Not yet a man; more than a boy. It was an awkward time for him. 

And being pushed and shoved by bossy women who were trampling each other in their haste to reach the eggnog most definitely was _not_ helping. 

The eighteen-year-old boy sighed and suppressed a shiver. No matter how long he'd been here, he never could get used to the cold. Of course, the outside wasn't the only thing that was chilly; his heart had long ago gained a coat of ice that kept most things from coming in—or out. 

Of course, a few things had managed to wriggle into the shadowy depths—one in particular. Or, more accurately, _someone_ in particular.

She was the last girl anyone would think he'd fall for. Bright and cheerful, she had a smile like sunrise and eyes of such an intense viridian hue that they had been known for stopping people in their tracks. 

But the young man was far too scared of rejection to do anything. It was odd, and that he knew, that _he_ of all people should be afraid. How odd it was that Syaoran Li, future leader of the Li Clan, was _afraid!_ And, odder by far, of a _girl!_

Not just any girl, he reminded himself, slowly forcing his way down the street. _This is Sakura we're dealing with._

And yet

It was strange, true; strange; and yet, also strangelynice. As if, by acknowledging that he had feelings for her, that somewhere deep down, he had a heart. 

~*~

I couldn't keep from glaring at the people as they nearly crushed me. And to think—all I wanted to do was get back to my apartment. 

__

How do they **stand** this? I wondered. _If I wasn't wearing three hundred layers, I'd be an ice cube!_

Seven years here, and I _still_ couldn't stand the cold. 

A fat, cold snowflake landed on my nose, like something out of a cartoon. I glared at it too; it melted swiftly, as if it didn't want to have to be in contact with _me_ any longer than possible. 

Not that I blamed it

My apartment complex came into view, and I hurried towards it, my breath steaming in the frosty air. Most of the balconies had decorations of some kind—all but one. 

That one would be mine. 

The sound of my footsteps on the steps rang hollowly in the stairwell. After a few flights, I came to my floor and opened the door. The dim hallway greeted me with a lukewarm draft, and I walked in, closing the door behind me. Finally, I came to my door. After searching all my pockets, I found my keys and let myself in. 

The apartment was somewhat cold, the interior dark. I switched on the light and dropped my coat on the couch, then went into the kitchen. The only sound heard in the entire apartment was that of me making some tea. 

I couldn't help it. Christmas always put me in a bad mood. 

No one cared about me at Christmas—they were all too busy with their own little worries to pay attention to me. _Oh, Syaoran Li,_ they'd say. _He doesn't mind!_

Believe me, I minded. 

Christmas only served as another way to remind me how socially inept I was. In other words, how no one liked me. 

__

Well, screw them, I thought angrily. _I don't need them anyway._ And I sank down on my couch, mug of strong tea in hand, and stared out the window as the snow fell. My mood darkened by the second. 

There was a knock on the door, and I scowled, saying loudly, "Coming." The mug went on the table; the couch was momentarily abandoned. 

"Hi!" I was cheerily greeted the moment I opened the door. "I noticed you didn't have any decorations, and I thought you might at least put up a wreath." Sakura smiled brightly at me and held out the pine-bough loop. 

"Umthanks," I said slowly. 

"No problem." She gave me a wave. "I gotta go help with the cookies, so I'll see you later, okay?" 

"Okay" She left, and I turned around and went back into the apartment. _What am I going to do with this? Hang it from the porch?_

I wearily rubbed my forehead. At least one person had given me a moment's thought.

Leaning back against the couch cushions, I let out a long sigh and closed my eyes, still devoid of any form of holiday spirit. 

I paced around the apartment, uneasy. There was nothing for me to do whatsoever, and I felt like I needed to be doing something, because otherwise I'd just feel useless.

The phone rang. It was Sakura again. "Syaoran, do you have a tree?" she asked suspiciously.

__

"What?"

"A Christmas tree," she said. "You don't, do you? Don't you want one?"

"No, Sakura, not really," I sighed. 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Positive?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely, one—"

__

"Yes."

"Oh." There was a pause. "Well, then, I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay." I set the receiver down with a sigh.

__

Ring!

"Hello?"

"Are you _really_ sure?"

"Sakura, I am _fine. _I _don't_ need a Christmas tree."

"What about lights, then?"

__

"No."

"Cookies?"

__

"No."

"Candles?"

**__**

"No."

"Stockings?"

"No! _Nothing! _The only thing I _need_ is a little peace and quiet!" I slammed the phone down and instantly regretted it, but there was nothing I could do. They were words and I couldn't take them back. 

It was around nine o' clock. I stared guiltily into the flames in the fireplace as if they would reveal a secret long lost to me. I didn't want to get up from my chair and look outside, for if I did, I'd see all the lights and all the parties _I_ wasn't invited to. Just thinking about it made the sullen loneliness grow even more. 

__

Who cares? Who cares about them and their dumb decorations? Who cares about Christmas, anyway?

Who cares about me? a tiny voice asked in the back of my head, but I ignored it.

The fire started faltering, as though blown by an immaterial wind. I squirmed in my chair, suddenly nervous, and a slightly colder draft swept across my face.

__

Is the door open? I wondered. _That would explain_

My thoughts trailed off as a figure floated up through the floor. 

She stopped when her feet cleared the floor and regarded me with solemn eyes. "Hello, Syaoran."

"Mei _Ling?_" I asked, staring at the tea mug. "Was there something in there that I didn't know about?"

"Of course not," she snapped. "Syaoran, you're getting lonely."

"No kidding," I snorted. "What does that have to do with you?"

"You will be visited by a ghost tonight," she said stonily, brushing my question aside. "She will come when the clock strikes midnight."

__

"What? Mei Ling, what are you _on?"_

She sighed deeply. "I'm the spirit of Mei Ling, you moron. Why are you asking _me_ what _I'm_ on if _you're_ the one seeing things come up through the _floor?_" 

I glowered at her. "Well, then explain to me how the _hell_ you ended up as a spirit and in my apartment."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Sorry, coz. No can do." And then she vanished into the floor again, muttering something about how she was _not_ going to rattle chains at me and howl 'We're Marley and Marley.' 

I stared at the spot where she'd disappeared long after she'd been gone. Eventually, my mind returned to a fully operational state, and I sat back, stymied. _Maybe there **is** something in this tea,_ I thought darkly, staring at the bottom of the now-empty mug. _Because it sure as hell couldn't have been real_

__

Could it?

I glanced at the clock. 10:32. Maybe I'd drifted off, and that had been all a dream. Maybe. 

__

If I'm that tired, then I should go to bed, I decided. _I can take care of the mug later._ I put out the fire and trudged down the dark, empty hallway, en route to my bedroom.

Either one of two things awaked me. One was the fact that the bells were tolling. I woke in time to catch the last few. 

The other possible thing was a brightly shining white light. 

Squinted, I spouted a few curses and sat up. _What the—_

Something was hovering a few feet away. Light shifted all around the figure, the white seemingly gauze at one moment and pure light at the next. 

And then she turned around. Her clear violet eyes gave me a rueful look, her hair floating around her like underwater plants in the sea. "You've sure messed yourself up," she said dryly. "I am the ghost of the Christmas Past. You get to see just how spiffy your life was before now. Oh yeah, and all the stupid mistakes you made. Fun, huh?"

"Umm" I tried to think of how to word this. "Tomoyo, I'mEbeniezer Scrooge"

"Yeah, well, you're still really, really lonely, so _we_ are going to fix that," she said cheerfully. And then she frowned. "Hold on—am I doing this right? I know I'm supposed to be all floaty and stuff"

"I think you're supposed to be a little more impersonal," I suggested. "But, hey, you're the ghost."

"You seem to be taking this awfully well," she said with surprise. 

I shrugged. "That's because I know I had a little too much of the General Tso's chicken. This is just one very messed up dream."

She laughed darkly, which unnerved me to some extent. "Trust me, my friend, this is more than the extra General Tso's. Now come on, we've got a schedule to keep." She impatiently snapped her fingers, and then we were zooming over Tomoeda. 

I let out a weak, choked laugh and flailed helplessly. "TOMOYO!!!!!"

"Aw, knock it off, you sissy." She seized my sleeve and hauled me forward. "We're losing time!" I was towed over Tomoeda, and then the surroundings faded into forest, and then we were over a city that seemed oddly familiar.

We landed in the courtyard of a mansion—but it struck a chord in my memory, somehow. Rain was coming down softly in a small storm.

"This—this is my house" I said slowly, taking a small step forward.

A little boy if no more than three was sitting on the steps, playing with magic scrolls. As I watched, he mumbled something and slapped a hand on the one to summon water. A small wave dropped onto the stone steps and he giggled and laughed, clapping his hands. 

__

ME?!

A tall woman I recognized as my mother came out and smiled down at the three-year-old me. "What are you doing, Xiao Lang?" 

The littler me held up a yellow paper and grinned widely. "I make water."

"You make water, hmm?" She sat down next to him as I walked nearer. The magics in those scrolls were small spells—I recognized them. Weak scrolls like these were used to train a young child in magic at an early age, ensuring they wouldn't lose control later. 

Suddenly, my mother straightened, her face turning white. _"Lang?!"_

I remembered now what this was. Lang was the name of my father.

Three-year-old me looked up too, his eyes widening. A messenger ran up to my mother and whispered something in her ear, and she covered her mouth in horror, rocking back and forth. Wails filled the courtyard—I somehow had known what had happened. My mother picked me up and held me close, and the rain came down harder.

Of all ironies, my father had died on Christmas Day.

I swallowed as someone snapped their fingers. Whirling, I saw Tomoyo standing behind me. The scene changed into another courtyard, where children of about seven were running around, playing tag.

A short girl with dark blue-black hair in two buns ran past, shrieking happily. _"Mei Ling?!"_

She didn't even halt and instead ran right past me, as though I didn't exist. In fact, no one seemed to be noticing me. 

Tomoyo led me into a room, where a small figure was huddled over a desk. "This is my classroom! And—" I whirled, looking instinctively toward the corner. A small, wizened old man was watching the boy with sharp eyes. "Master Yu!" 

"Are you done, Xiao Lang?" he demanded in a dry, rattling voice. 

The boy—me—looked up. "Almost," he said quietly. 

"Well, go faster! Slow workers never go far in life!" 

The younger me bit his lip and nodded silently. 

"I will return in a moment," Master Yu said stuffily, hobbling out of the small room. He had always liked me, but on occasion, he would be in a bad mood. 

"Xiao Lang! Come play with us!" One of my cousins poked her head in the door.

He shook his head. "I have to work."

"All you ever do is work," Jiang complained. "You need to have fun."

"No I don't." Younger-me bent his head back over the parchment, ignoring Jiang, and she eventually went away. 

"You never did take time to relax," Tomoyo said sadly as the classroom faded, replaced by a grand chamber. "It cost you."

"And you're telling me thiswhy?" I asked. "Are you _positive_ this isn't the General Tso's?" 

She rolled her eyes. "Yes! This is for _real!_ And it's happening because your life _sucks_ right now and you have a chance to fix it!"

"My life doesn't suck."

She raised an eyebrow. "Boy, you really need to get out more."

I scowled at her, but a voice cut in before I could retort.

"Xiao Lang, you have seen that the Clow Cards were released in Tomoeda, Japan." 

A now-ten version of me nodded from where he knelt in front of the dais. "Yes, Elder."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Your task is to go to Tomoeda. If you do not succeed in reclaiming the Cards, then it is a sign that you are not meant to have them. If that is so, then you must aid the one that _is,_ and stay until they are secure beyond doubt. The Clow Cards are worth much to us, but it is worth more to have them in the hands of one who is destined to have them." The last statement was somewhat cryptic; it had taken me a few months to understand what she had meant: If I wasn't the one meant to have them, that would suck, but it was better for the chosen one to have them, then. 

As I watched, the ten-year-old me nodded again, face paling. I remember how it had felt right then: my own family was exiling me to another country to live _alone_ for at least a year. I would be alone until I could take the Cards back to them. 

The hall faded, then turned into a crowded room. I remembered now: this had been the day I'd arrived in Tomoeda. 

"Class, we have a new student. I'd like you to welcome Syaoran Li." 

I watched, running a hand through my hair, as the other me kept glaring at Sakura. My thoughts had been that she was the whole reason for my banishment, and so I'd been more than resentful, but it still didn't justify my actions. "Dear lord, I was a jackass," I thought aloud. 

"Yeah, no arguments there," Tomoyo said behind me. There was a snap of her fingers again, and then we were in yet another crowded room. This time, however, it was in _her_ house. A giant Christmas tree dominated one corner, with garlands of evergreen boughs draped all around the room. It was Tomoyo's Christmas party, and coincidentally the first party I'd been invited to. 

I spotted the fifteen-year-old me standing in a corner uncomfortably. Social gatherings never had been a strong point for me. 

The Tomoyo that _wasn't_ all ghost-ish was standing by the punch table, chatting with Chiharu. Eriol wandered casually over to her as Chiharu whirled and clocked Yamazaki. Leaning over, he whispered something in her ear, and her eyes widened. A slow smile spread across her face. 

My heart sank as I realized _exactly_ what she wanted to show me. I whirled around, alternately white- and red-faced. "No more! I don't want to see _any_ more, Tomoyo!"

She smiled placidly and faded, leaving me alone. 

__

If she was real, I'd strangle her

"Hey, everyone, let's play Spin the Bottle!"

I sat wearily on a couch, knowing she was going to take me out of this flashback when _she_ wanted to go. As I watched, Tomoyo (the un-ghost-ish one) dragged the blushing other me over to the circle. Eriol had already gotten a bottle out of god-knows-where.

"Tomoyo," I announced loudly, glad that they couldn't hear me, "if you don't get me out of this _now_ I'm going outside. I get the point."

She appeared in front of me, scowling. "Scrooge was _much_ more cooperative, you know. And, I might mention, you can try but you won't get very far."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked suspiciously as the ringing of glass on wood filled the air—they'd given the bottle a twist.

Blinking innocently, she said, "You can't go out of this room."

I stared at her, infuriated. "This is some stunt of Eriol's, isn't it?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Like I said before, your life sucked, and this is _all_ for your own good."

And then she disappeared, and right in front of me was my worst nightmare. Okay, so it wasn't like I'd never wanted it to happen, but I'd never wanted it to happen like _that._

Of course, both Sakura and I had been able to tell that Eriol had made it do that. 

Sakura had spun the bottle, and it had been pointing at me.

I had even been hanging towards the back, standing with my arms crossed and leaning against a wall in an interesting imitation of nonchalance. There was a slight gap between the two people.

And Eriol had stopped it so it was _still_ pointing directly at me. It was in the _exact_ middle of the gap so there could be no doubt whatsoever. 

We had both sent simultaneous red-faced glares at him. 

"You know the rules," Tomoyo said innocently. "Go on, we want to see some tongue action."

I had thought I was the only one who was humiliated by that, but Sakura was blushing fairly hard too. 

I remembered all too well what happened next. She stood up and walked over—and this time I saw Tomoyo whip out her camera—and then stood in front of me. We were both blushing our heads off. I thought my face was going to burst into flames.

And neither of us moved. There was tense silence.

"Will you make out already?" Eriol finally demanded, smirking. 

At that point I was ready to kill him. 

Slowly, our faces came closer and closer, and then finally our lips brushed. 

"Yep," Ghost-ish-Tomoyo commented cheerfully from her perch on the other armrest. "That was your first kiss. And your only one, I might add, which is pretty stupid. Honestly, she thinks you're oh, what, the hottest guy on the face of the earth?"

__

"WHAT?!"

She snorted. "You both are so caught up in trying to pretend you don't like each other that you don't see what's right in front of your face." 

"What do you mean by that?"

She shook her head, and then the scene vanished, replaced by a snowy street. A sixteen-year-old me was walking side-by-side with Sakura. She was bright-eyed and red-cheeked from the brisk chill, which only served to make her even prettier. _No surprise there._

"So what is it you wanted to tell me, Syaoran?" she asked cheerfully.

The other me winced and looked away. "The Clan wants me to come back." 

She stopped dead in her tracks. "You have to go away?"

"Mother—Mother wants me to stay," other-me said heavily. "She's trying to convince them to let me."

"Oh." Sakura blinked rapidly and stared at the sidewalk, still stunned. And then she said quietly, "I don't want you to go." 

I could see the surprise in the other-me's eyes. I hadn't thought she would be soso sad. Like she wouldn't mind it as much. I hadn't thought I meant that much to her.

I turned and glared at Tomoyo. "Is there a point to this?"

She smacked her forehead. "How many times have I told you this, huh? The whole reason we're doing this is so you can keep from screwing up your life!"

"I'm not screwing up—what do you mean, we?" My eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I _knew_ Eriol had something to do with this!"

"No!" She seemed awfully close to hitting her head on the nearest lamppost out of exasperation. "There are _three_ time flows, Syaoran: Past, Present, and Future. Do you _really_ think we'd let you get by with just seeing the past?" Before I could answer, she cut me off. "Don't answer that. We've got another stop to make." Snapping her fingers, she took us to the empty schoolyard. "There."

There were three figures standing in the foot-deep snow. Two were standing together, facing the other. That one was an enemy sorcerer, one of the many who seemed to think he could take Sakura's Cards. The Clan had let me stay because of people like him.

An enormous ball of fire roared out of nowhere, and the two figures—Sakura and I—dodged it. There was a trail of mud marking its path. 

"Wood!" Sakura threw the Card into the air.

"Don't—!"

It was too late. Vines shot out of the Card, but before they reached the sorcerer the fireball had landed on them. Flames raced up the wooden lengths faster than lightning, and I had time to see her eyes widen in surprise before the fire reached the Card. She screamed, her body paralyzed in pain, and her shriek seemed to go on, and on, and on for an eternity. An eternity in a moment—that was how time passed when I had to see her in pain. 

And then—it seemed like it was in slow motion, almost—she fell back, the snow already starting to melt around her motionless form. Steam was forming a shroud of mist around her.

__

"SAKURA!" As I watched, feeling the pain again, the other me stumbled over and fell to his knees in the snow beside her. **_"SAKURA!_"** She stayed silent and I closed my eyes, trying to stay away from the memory. The snow made no sound as it drifted down; the silence was broken only by the harsh breath of a desperate young boy, searching for life in a dying angel. After transforming the Cards, they were like a part of her, so their pain was her pain. Physically, she hadn't been hurt, but inside

I remembered now how she hadn't even been breathing. How she had no pulse. How she was every bit as good as dead. Magic still flooded her veins, and in a way she was still alive—her soul was still in her body, trapped within its mortal shell—but she was dead. It was the worst way anyone could die—for magic to be destroyed; it kept the soul in the body for all eternity. 

I had been praying to anything that was listening that she wasn't that way too; begging for a miracle as I held her still body tightly to me. 

My own breath was slightly harsh too as I watched. Snow was falling, making it harder to see, but I still made out the two figures in the snow easily. 

There was a low moan. "Syaoran?" she asked slowly, her eyes still closed. 

Startlement flashed across the other me's face as he looked down on her. "I—I'm here," he responded. That moment, I had been granted a miracle. 

"Aw," Tomoyo sighed as the other me pulled out his sword and proceeded to turn the enemy sorcerer into a pile of smoking dust. "That just gives you the warm fuzzies, doesn't it now." 

"I honestly can't wait until I wake up," I muttered.

Suddenly, she sobered. "I've got one more thing to show you. Technically, it isn't in the Christmas _past_ per se, but you need to see it." She snapped her fingers. 

And I was in a doctor's office. Sakura was sitting on the table, her face unusually pale, and staring at the ground. 

The doorknob twisted, and a doctor entered. "Ms. Kinomoto, the analysis results are in."

Sakura looked up. "And?" she whispered nervously. 

"And" the doctor swallowed. "It isn't clear what you have. It could be a simple infectionor it could be something more serious."

"How serious?"

She was unable to look her in the eye. "If it isn't an infection, you'll have approximately one month to live."

Sakura covered her mouth in horror, and then seemed to fall apart on the examining table. I could tell she was trying not to cry, but it wasn't working. 

The news hit me like a punch in the stomach. "When was this?" I demanded, whirling around. _"When?"_

"Less than a week ago," Tomoyo answered grimly. "She hasn't told anyone, because the results won't come in until tomorrow. She doesn't want to freak anyone out."

__

"Well, **I'm** freaked out!" I yelled. "She could be _dead_ in less than three weeks!"

"We don't know that," she retorted. 

I stared at the sobbing Sakura, feeling the beginning of fear and coldness start to float through my blood. "That's it. I'm through. I don't want any more of this little joy ride."

"Tour's over anyway, scout," she shot back. "Have fun with your next visitor."

"Who is it?" I asked wearily.

"Can't tell," she responded. "Merry Christmas."

And then I was falling down—

I sat up with a jolt, breathing hard. I was in my room, in my apartment, at god-knew-what hour of night.

It had been a dream after all.

__

Sakura **can't** be dying, I decided. _It was a dream, nothing more._

There was a clatter in the kitchen as the clock tolled two o'clock. Warily, I got out of bed and picked up my sword, moving stealthily down the hall. Finally, I reached the kitchen, and I darted out from behind the wall, ready to attack. My sword was pointed directly out at the intruder. 

There was a snort. "I'm the Ghost of the Christmas Present."

"Yeah, and I'm Santa Claus," I said sarcastically. "I _really_ had way too much of that General Tso's"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ooh, cliffhanger!!! Who's the ghost of the Christmas present? What will happen? Will Sakura die?

Don't look at me! I don't know! It's not like I _write_ these things, honestly!

Okay, so maybe I do! Maybe she dies and lives at the same time! I could do that, you know, although with some difficulty

Nihil est! In vita priore ego imperator Romanus fui! 


End file.
